


sidereal

by bucketfulloffandom



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: 2018 Winter Olympics, :///, Angst, M/M, Unrequited Love, apologies if this is awkward or ooc i uhhhhhhh suck, i guess, me: writes figure skating rpf three days after getting into it, short and rambling, uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh Woops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-21 05:36:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13734258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bucketfulloffandom/pseuds/bucketfulloffandom
Summary: adj. of or with respect to the distant starsShoma's thoughts catch up to him.





	sidereal

**Author's Note:**

> sorry about this mom
> 
> UHHHHHHHH i ended up watching men's figure skating and nothing else of the olympics and 1) got a big ol' crush on nathan chen 2) took one step into the rpf tag out of curiousity and was accosted by . all this. thanks guys
> 
> i know this is the last thing any of my ten subscribers expected and honestly i didn't expect it either i wrote this in like an hour after playing overwatch for four hours so my brain's a little fried. sorry
> 
> as always, kudos/comments are greatly appreciated! hope u enjoy whatever this is. sorry

Shoma watches.

It’s awkward, and he’s uncomfortable, but he forces a smile, because he remembers the cameras and the many, many eyes on him in this moment, and he watches.

Yuzuru stifles a sob into Javier’s shoulder, and Shoma can feel the tension in Javi’s body as the hand the Spanish skater has on Shoma’s nape flexes without any real purpose.

“You are so bad,” Yuzu half-cries, half-laughs as he pulls away. Javi ducks his head, silent. Shoma watches, stuck between the two of them, stuck in a tangle of unspoken feelings and secret moments. Yuzu rubs the tears from his eyes. Shoma fixes his bangs.

Silver should feel better than this, he thinks.

  
  


It is not until that night, when all the celebrations and formalities are over, that Shoma sits down and considers what has happened today.

Keiji is mercifully absent from their shared room, likely still out socializing with the other skaters. Shoma flops onto his bed, stares up at the ceiling, and lets out a sigh he feels like he’s been holding in all day.

Olympic silver. It’s an amazing accomplishment, really, it is, he tells himself. He’s thrilled, really. He’s proud, and he’s grateful for everyone and everything that helped him get here. He is.

He thinks about the look in Yuzuru’s eyes when he pressed his forehead to Javi’s chest, the gentle tremor of his shoulders, and Shoma swears again that he is glad for everything. He _is_.

It’s easier, most of the time, to forget the persistent problem that’s plagued Shoma for who knows how long at this point. Or, if not to forget, at least to lessen the bite of, to shove it to the back of his mind and hope it disappears in some dark corner and never appears again. Off-season, Shoma trains on his own and resolutely pretends he’s forgotten about it. At competitions, during those weeks when Yuzuru is present in his reality again, he practices, he socializes, but he does not allow himself to pause and think. And for the most part, it works.

It works, up until Shoma steps off the ice after his free skate and realizes he can let go of every worry that’s been pent up since he arrived in Pyeongchang, and he spots Yuzuru, grinning, eyes brimming with pride.

It works, up until Shoma watches Yuzu struggle with heartbreak in front of the world, and he is awkward, and he is uncomfortable, and he realizes he has never stopped being in love with Yuzuru Hanyu.

Shoma stares up at the ceiling.

Yuzuru laughing, beaming with uncontainable pride and joy. Yuzuru crying, looking for all the world like the vulnerable child Shoma knows he’s not really. Yuzuru on the ice, ethereal, perfect, an incidental, impossibly earthly embodiment of some fleeting star form in that brilliant period of time when it shines the brightest before burning out. Except Yuzuru doesn’t burn out, doesn’t flicker into darkness, not when he’s skating perfect patterns around the rink, and not when he steps off the ice, either.

Yuzuru burns impossibly bright and warm.

Shoma stares up at the ceiling.

He is thankful for silver.

Yuzuru loves Javier with all his brightness and all his warmth, all the otherworldly, awesome intensity Shoma loves him for.

Yuzuru’s heart breaks, and Shoma feels his chest collapse inward, his sternum buckling and his ribs folding into empty space.

He stares up at the ceiling, and wonders if perhaps he’s crying, wonders why.


End file.
